


ThE bOoK oF hIgHs

by FailureArtist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Demonic Possession, Dreams, Drug Withdrawal, Earth-C, F/M, Gen, Humanstuck, Isolation, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Illness, Microfiction, Multi, Not canonical with epilogues, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Redemption, Religion, Self-Flagellation, Sexual Content, Therapy, Writing Exercise, trepanning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:51:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 7,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureArtist/pseuds/FailureArtist
Summary: A Gamzee-centered series of drabbles based around the 255 "highs" listed inThe Book of Highs by Edward Rosenfeld.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Just because these highs don't involve drugs doesn't make them safe for work. Note all warnings at the top of each chapter.

I got this book out from the library called "The Book of Highs", which I spotted on the New Nonfiction table. The book lists various ways to get an altered state of consciousness without use of drugs. Looking through it, I thought that while not all the ways were good ones, perhaps they could make a good writing exercise. I plan to write a drabble of at least five sentences for each way. In most cases, the drabble will be set in a Post-Canon AU where Gamzee is rescued from Caliborn in an undescribed fashion and lives on Earth-C where everyone is alive ( **EDIT 4/20:** Said AU has nothing to do with the official Homestuck Epilogues). In some cases, this AU won't work and I'll use a different one. They aren't in sequential order or taking place in the same timeline. This isn't really a shipping work but likely GamKar will come up, along with any other ship that seems right for the drabble. Here is the list:

  1. ~~Concentration~~ (Chapter 2)
  2. Self-Awareness
  3. Philosophical awareness
  4. ~~Sensory awareness~~ (Chapter 6)
  5. Biological awareness
  6. ~~Visceral awareness~~ (Chapter 10)
  7. Rhythmic and cyclical awareness
  8. ~~Planetary awareness~~ (Chapter 3)
  9. ~~Short-lived phenomena~~ (Chapter 4)
  10. Semantic awareness
  11. Extraspecies communication
  12. Cultural awareness
  13. Awareness of others
  14. Meditation
  15. Prolonged observation
  16. ~~Spinning~~ (Chapter 8)
  17. ~~Fervent prayer~~ (Chapter 13)
  18. Long time at sea, desert, or arctic
  19. Self-hypnosis
  20. Alterations of breathing
  21. Trance
  22. Myth, tales, & koan
  23. Rituals
  24. Chanting and mantras
  25. Mudra
  26. Problem solving
  27. Extra-sensory perception
  28. Culturally-based visual illusions
  29. Auditory illusions
  30. Afterimages
  31. Repetition
  32. Psychological exercises
  33. Mathematics
  34. Continuous singing
  35. Manuel phosphene stimulation
  36. ~~Zen power yell~~ Chapter 5
  37. Poetry
  38. Voluntary silence
  39. Loving
  40. Suffering
  41. Pain
  42. Forbidden activities
  43. Rage
  44. Paranoia
  45. Panic
  46. Psychosis
  47. Amnesia
  48. Exhaustion
  49. Delirium of high fevers
  50. Epileptic seizures
  51. Migraines
  52. Narcotic withdrawal
  53. Demonic possession
  54. ~~Brainwashing~~ (Chapter 11)
  55. Self-flagellation
  56. Fire walking
  57. Fasting
  58. Sleep deprivation
  59. Involuntary isolation
  60. Near-death & out-of-body experiences
  61. Fantasy and daydreaming
  62. Remember and reverie
  63. Lullabies
  64. Sleep
  65. Dreaming
  66. Dream incubation
  67. Hypnagogic phenomena
  68. Lucid dreaming
  69. Dreams applied to waking life
  70. Hypnopompic phenomena
  71. ~~Sunbathing~~ (Chapter 16)
  72. Floating
  73. ~~Sex~~ (Chapter 14)
  74. Prolonged sexual intercourse
  75. Orgasm
  76. Nudity
  77. Prolonged masturbation
  78. Orgiastic or corybantic dancing
  79. Zen morning laugh
  80. Impressions are food
  81. Sensory reminscences
  82. Deja vu
  83. Synesthesia
  84. Seeking
  85. Forgetting
  86. Art experience
  87. Creativity
  88. Profound esthetic experience
  89. Flow
  90. Peak experience
  91. Movement
  92. Postures
  93. Tensing
  94. Jumping up and down
  95. Play
  96. Running
  97. Gymnastics
  98. Golf
  99. Mountaineering and rock climbing
  100. Mushroom hunting
  101. Survival tests
  102. Futures
  103. Acceleration and future shock
  104. ~~Voluntary social withdrawal~~ (Chapter 15)
  105. Communes
  106. Everyday experience
  107. ~~Psychoanalysis~~ (Chapter 9)
  108. Analytical psychology
  109. Character analysis
  110. Psychodrama and drama therapy
  111. Logothreapy
  112. Existential therapy
  113. Rational therapy
  114. General semantics
  115. Final intergration
  116. ~~Thanatological awareness~~ Chapter 7
  117. Gestalt therapy
  118. Maslovian psychology
  119. Transpersonal psychology
  120. Sensory training
  121. Bio-energetic analysis
  122. Grounding and energy
  123. Psychomotor therapy
  124. Psychosynthesis
  125. Client-centered therapy
  126. Behavior therapy
  127. Cognitive behavioral therapy
  128. Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing
  129. Encounter
  130. Marathon
  131. Potentials
  132. ~~Art therapy~~ (Chapter 12)
  133. Family therapy
  134. A Psychobiological Approach to Couple Therapy (PACT)
  135. Dance therapy
  136. Imago relationship therapy
  137. Theater games
  138. Primal therapy
  139. Rolfing
  140. Alexander technique
  141. Autogenic training
  142. Flagellation
  143. Hypnosis
  144. Massage
  145. Kinesics
  146. Laban movement
  147. Bates method
  148. Compressed time
  149. Yoga
  150. Transcendental Meditation
  151. Agni yoga
  152. Tibetan Buddhism
  153. Tantric sex
  154. Body chanting
  155. Taoism
  156. Confucianism
  157. Buddhism
  158. Tea ceremony
  159. Haiku
  160. Kendo and kyudo
  161. T'ai chi ch'uan
  162. Martial arts
  163. Calligraphy and Sumie
  164. Flower arrangement
  165. Sufism
  166. Subud
  167. Jewish mysticism
  168. Astrology
  169. Magick
  170. Alchemy
  171. Anthroposophy
  172. Arica
  173. Religious pilgrimage
  174. Revival meetings
  175. Religious conversion
  176. Seances
  177. Faith healing
  178. Charismatic speakers
  179. Crowds
  180. Flash mobs
  181. I Ching
  182. Tarot
  183. The ten ox herding pictures
  184. Finnegans Wake
  185. Incense
  186. Sensory orgy
  187. Intensive instrument playing
  188. Sound meditation
  189. Metronome watching
  190. Stained glass
  191. Hot & cold baths
  192. Environmental control
  193. Sensory deprivation
  194. Witches' cradle and ASCID
  195. Body confinement
  196. Hermann's grid
  197. Peripheral drift
  198. Autostereograms
  199. Ames perceptual demonstrations
  200. Mandalas
  201. Gymnastic equipment
  202. Scuba & skin diving
  203. Bells
  204. Masks
  205. Rock throwing
  206. Automobile destruction
  207. Kayak disease
  208. Engine rough
  209. Skydriving
  210. Breakoff
  211. Gliding
  212. Land diving
  213. Skiing and snowboarding
  214. Space travel
  215. Trepanning
  216. Sensory overload
  217. Electronic dance music
  218. Natural sound amplification
  219. Prolonged radar-screen observation
  220. Movies
  221. Stroboscopes
  222. Continuous light and sound
  223. Dream machine
  224. Riley room
  225. Binaural beats
  226. Missing frequencies
  227. Infinity room
  228. Magnets
  229. Transcranial magnetic stimulation
  230. Negative ionization
  231. Psychedelic bathtub
  232. Moire patterns
  233. Seeing your eye
  234. Electrical stimulation of the mastoid
  235. Electric clothing
  236. Ganzfeld effect
  237. Electrosleep
  238. Sound and motion sensors
  239. Electronically generated visual illusions
  240. OKPLD (Optikinetic Perceptual Learning Device for Sensory Stimulation and Learning)
  241. Repetition taps
  242. Brain-wave biofeedback
  243. Electrodermal activity
  244. Muscle biofeedback
  245. Heartbeat and respiration biofeedback
  246. Virtual reality
  247. Augmented reality
  248. Mutual wave machine
  249. Holophonic sound
  250. Simulated body illusion
  251. Autonomous sensory meridian response (ASMR)
  252. Video games
  253. Brain music
  254. Electrical stimulation of the brain
  255. Living



 

Hopefully, I can complete this project and give inspiration to other writers. 


	2. Concentration

You take your graspers and put them in front of your peepers. These days, you can get a mani-pedi at any salon so your graspers are looking wicked good. You examine the purple-tinted grey skin turning into the bright shiny yellow nail. All five fingers are still there, despite the most perilsome journey you’ve been on. Your mind goes off on that journey and instead of corralling them bad thoughts immediately you just let it go wild for a perigee. Then, you get back to thinking about your long lovely graspers. How motherfucking useful they are! Not only can they manipulate the material world, they can manipulate your own mind!


	3. Planetary Awareness

You used to hate it when you saw the words “THANK YOU FOR PLAYING” appearing in the sky every twenty four hours. The Game brought you to your absolute lowest most sinful point. You missed your nights on Alternia and this Earth-C was strange. Yet now you appreciate this planet, all pollution-free and teaming with life. It is your motherfucking home.


	4. Short-lived Phenomena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: animal death

Back on Alternia, one of the few times your lonely peepers got to see other trolls, actually see them with in the flesh, was when the flesh of a whale rolled up on your beach. Seemed every troll in the sector would descend to supplement their rations with fresh meat. Fights would break out. You always took your lusus’ advice and stayed inside, watching the kerfuffle fearfully from the window. Now on Earth-C, whales still get the fool’s notion to wash ashore, but this time instead of getting ripped apart, they are gently rolled back into the ocean. You think you like it better here. Still, you wonder what whale meat tastes like.


	5. Zen Power Yell

You go outside first for this one. You know just the place. Among of Jade’s overblown gardens, there’s a simpler one made of all these scattered pebbles and tiny trees. Nobody else is around. You get those benders to work, sitting with your glutes on your heels. You take in all that good clean air into your breath sacs. Just saying a “one” and a “two” and a so-forth to “five”. At that number, you bring your graspers up, clench them like a motherfucker, and cross your arms over your chest. You continue your breathing and counting until you get to eight. That perfect number eight. You throw your head up and scream “HOOOOOOOOOOOONK!” Just all let it out like it’s the Vast Honk. No, fuck the Vast Honk. This is the new honk. Your new religion is this. You scream yourself hoarse.   
“FUCK! What’s wrong this time?!” Karkat screams.  
Oops. Guess someone was around.


	6. Sensory Awareness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains food eating.
> 
> May or may not be GamJane.

Though you’ve made and consumed plenty of “sopor pies” in your life, and sometimes microwaved a meat pie, you’ve never had a real fruit pie. When your sister Jane heard that, she got it in her head she had to make you one. She was all back on forth on what flavor to use, but eventually, she settled on a mixed berry.

This first is a prime memory to save and you are saving the hell out of it. Today is what humans call “summer”. The sun is bright, but nothing compared to Alternia. Outside, the various insects of Earth-C are screaming their motherfucking heads off. Jane’s “kitchen” is hotter than the other rooms, but not as hot as it is outside. The fridge gives off a hum, reminding you of its presences, but let’s just ignore that. You focus on a cross-stitch on the wall saying “The mere fact that you call making love ‘pop-pop’ tells me you’re not ready - Michael Bluth”. Just pick out every little periwinkle stitch with your peepers. It’s boring waiting but a nice kind of boring.

Finally, Jane takes the pie out of the oven. It’s a double-crust pie so the goodness inside is hidden from your hungry eyes. Still, you can see some of the shiny juices seeping out the middle. It’s so wicked hot you can hear the crackling inside if your hear ducts are patient enough. You are a nice enough boy these days not to touch it but you can feel the heat coming off of it. You make small talk with your perwinkle sister but you are just raging to get to that pie. Finally, she decides it’s time. She takes a knife and slices in. You can see the juices ooze. She gives you a modest piece. The insides of the pie are deep blue and dark red. You take a fork like the gentleman you now are. Close your eyes as you spoon some pie in. It still is burning hot like Alternia’s dead sun yet you can still taste the sharp sweetness of the berries and the tender flakiness of the crust. You are transported directly to flavor country in an instant. Sopor pies have nothing on this.

“Good pie, right?” Jane asks.

“A miracle,” you say with a full mouth, showing maybe you still aren’t a gentleman.


	7. Thanatological Awareness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussed death

For this new session of your therapy, your new sister Rose takes you to what humans call a graveyard. Earth-C is full of life but it’s also full of death, so there are more than a few graveyards at this point. You climb up to the top of a hill, under the shade of a tree, and roll out a blanket. Rose takes out a thermo of hot leaf water and you both imbibe.  
“You know why I brought you here?” she asks.  
“Not a clue,” you say.  
“Do you know what graveyards are?”  
“Oh, Aradia told me. You humans put your corpses in boxes and hide them away in the ground, which ain’t making sense to me cause how do them glorious fauna eat you if they have to go through heavy wood?”  
“We try to put off the moment when we are consumed by worms.”  
You shrug. “Weird.”  
“Anyway, I brought you here today for thanatological awareness.”  
“What the motherfuck now?”  
“So you could come to terms with the fact you’ll die some day.”  
“Oh,” you say as you look out into the distance at all the grey stones lined up all neat and pretty like naked soldiers.  
“I hope it isn’t news to you that you’re now one of the few of us who are mortal.”  
“Nah, when that fridge door opened and the light came in, I had a motherfucking feeling in my digestive sack that I was mortal.” You snort. “Actually, I thought I was dead for a sec.”   
“We are all beyond the canon now. Your plot armor is gone. How do you feel about that?”  
“Plot armor was a weight bearing down on me. I be light as a motherfucking feather with it gone!”  
“You aren’t sad you’ll die?”  
“I be a purpleblood. It’s gonna be a long long time until the blood in my veins stops running.”  
“There is such a thing as accidental death.”  
You nudge her with your elbow. “You threatening me?” you joke.   
“Just be careful out there.”  
“Can’t promise anything, sis.”  
She sighs. “Another thing: I’m afraid that with the disappearance of the dreambubbles, there might not be an afterlife anymore.”  
“But you ain’t sure?”  
“I wish I was sure, even if the answer was no.”  
You sit in silence for a moment, digesting this thought. This life really could be all there is. Yet something inside you rebels. You stand up so quickly you almost see stars.  
“Then let’s just say, motherfucking hell yeah, there’s an afterlife! Come on, say yes!”  
She covers her face. “I can’t say yes or no. It wouldn’t be right!”  
You sit down. “Ahh, fifty percent sure ain’t bad.”   
You finish drinking the tea. Down the hill, a funeral service starts.  
Rose says, “The first funeral I ever went to, in fact the only funeral, was for my pet cat.”  
“Humans have funerals for pets?”  
“Normally we put our deceased pets in shoe boxes and bury them one feet deep, but my mother decided to have our cat chemically preserved and put in a small building on the grounds. I did not know much of the world but I did know this was not normal. I thought my mother was mocking my grief. Yet looking at Roxy’s love for cats, I think my mother possibly shared it.”  
“Wish I could have had one of those human-type funerals for Goatdad.”  
“We could still have a memorial service.”  
“Nah, it wouldn’t feel right now.”  
“I think it’s time to go now.”  
So you leave the graveyard with a new awareness.


	8. Spinning

You are sitting in a field of flowers when the urge to get your body up hits you. You obey this urge. Then you stretch your long arms out. One foot goes over the other and soon you are spinning like a grey and purple top out in the open. Your world blurs into one big happy mess. You are motherfucking free. You spin and spin until you trip over yourself and fall on the soft grass laughing. The world continues to spin in your knocked-about pan. The sky won’t stay still.

The clown dervishes used to spin like this, one of the few innocent ways they had of getting high. You think you heard from Dirk that there were humans who also did the same thing. In the dark times, this “blasphemy” would make you angry, but not anymore. You were a god of Earth and y’all somehow made it in your images. Better to appreciate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm no vriska


	9. Psychoanalysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this a prequel? is rose my self-insert?

TC: I hEaRd It FrOm ThE pUrPlE oRb FrUiT vInE tHaT yOu Be ThE mOtHeRfUcKeR tO gO fIxInG tHiNk PaNs WiTh ThIs ScIeNcE cAlLeD "sYkOaNaLsIs".   
TT: Do you mean “psychoanalysis”?   
TC: YeAh, ThAt MoThErFuCkEr!   
TT: I am grieved to say that though at thirteen years old, I had an interest in psychoanalysis and its creator, the human Sigmund Freud, my passion has faded over the years.  
TC: AwW sHiT, sIs, DiDn’T mEaN tO bRiNg YoU dOwN.  
TC: I kNoW tOo MoThErFuCkInG wElL wHaT iT's LiKe To LoSe YoUr WiGgLeRhOoD pAsSiOn.  
TT: My passion was never as strong as yours by far.  
TT: Most of my drive was finding ways to call my brother a homosexual.  
TT: Freudianism seemed so daringly sexual and that was appealing to me as an edgy preteen.  
TT: I had not perused more than that human online encyclopedia Wikipedia.  
TT: When I had free time on Earth-C, I did some more reading, mostly on Dirk’s recommendations.  
TT: Actually looking into him put the damper on my enthusiasm.  
TC: WhAt Be HiS bEeF?  
TT: He was a terrible scientist, an unpleasant person, and had odd ideas about women.  
TC: CaN’t TrUsT nO sCiEnTiSt.  
TT: Or at least not this scientist.  
TT: After reading about his treatment of the patient codenamed “Dora”, I thought if I had a session with him, it would end with me stabbing him with my needles.  
TC: He Be ThAt MoThErFuCkIn AwFuL?  
TT: Indeed.  
TC: So ThIs FrEuD cAn’T hElP mE?  
TT: Well, he died seventy planet revolution before the destruction of Earth-A so even if he was right he couldn’t help you.  
TC: :o(  
TC: I hAd My HoPeS aLl Up HiGh FoR tHiS bEaRdEd HuMaN mOtHeRfUcKeR tO sOlVe ThEm PrObLeMs.  
TC: ThIs Be JuSt LiKe DaVe AnD oBaMa.  
TT: In any case, Sigmund Freud might have been fair for his time but by 2009 we were treating think pans in different ways.  
TC: Do YoU kNoW tHoSe MoThErFuCkInG wAyS?  
TT: Are you asking me for help repairing your wounded psyche?  
TC: YoU gOt Me BlUsHiNg LiKe ThAt PuRpLe OrB fRuIt ViNe YoU oN.  
TT: Well, are you?   
TC: I gUeSs ThIs MoThErFuCkEr Is AsKiN tHaT.  
TT: I don’t claim to be an expert anymore, like I did when I was thirteen, but you can come over and talk.  
TT: We can both explore this human science of fixing think pans together.  
TC: WiCkEd! I'lL sEe YoU sOoN!  
TT: You’re coming now?  
TC: No MoThErFuCkInG tImE lIkE tHe PrEsEnT!  
TT: But now is not the time!  
TC: WhAt AlL bE tHe MoThErFuCk WrOnG wItH nOw?  
TT: It’s just my wife and I are a little tied up in this project.  
TT: Gamzee?  
TT: Gamzee?  
TT: Oh fuck.  



	10. Visceral Awareness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: discussion of digestion

Your daughter Calliope has made you yet another motherfucking wicked meal of steak with sprinkles. You chew on the fat both ways, literally and figuratively. You imagine the food getting kicked down your protein chute into your digestive sac. All the juices, strong juices, dissolve it. Your entire body is working to take the nutrients your beloved daughter gave to you with her own two claws. You’ve been doing reading on how the troll body works. Catching up on your terrible education. You used to think knowing how things worked would make it less magical but knowing about all the systems just increases the magic. At least when no motherfucker worked for you, you had bacteria that did. After a few hours, your daughter’s love will go through your indigo blood. And anything that ain’t love? That just turns to shit and piss and you flush it away.


	11. Brainwashing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to leave off the Negative Techniques for later but I've been reading a book about Patty Hearst...
> 
> Alternate universe: Humanstuck
> 
> Warning: kidnapping, mental abuse, mentioned familial homophobia

You are just some trust fund college kid spending a quiet Monday night not studying in a townhouse your family rents when these six motherfuckers in black ski masks barge in. You do not fight when they blindfold and tie you up; they are heavily armed, after all. They put you in the trunk of a vehicle, and then in the trunk of another vehicle, and you escape those confinements only to be put in a closet that locks from the outside. You cry yourself to sleep on a mattress even more dirty than the one you have at home.

Not much time passes before you are woken up by the loudest of the black ski mask motherfuckers. He says he’s the Major General of the Sufferist Liberation Army. You say you ain’t never heard of that country and he’s offended but it’s not like you ever watch the news or look at a map. He tells you that you and your family are just insects. Worse than the fleas that infest the closet. Now you do know that your family isn’t evil, though they do have their problems, and you’ve never exploited anyone in your life. Nothing you say stops his yelling. He says he’s killed before and you believe him.

Yet the other motherfuckers are nice to you. This one honey-voiced woman gives you mung bean porridge and she says it’s a recipe from her grandmother. This lanky fellow takes the handcuffs off when he washes you and shampoos your head up good. He says he was going to college but he dropped out. They tell you a lot about themselves but not their real names and they never show their faces.

You assume at first your time here won’t be long. Your old man is loaded. He’ll pay off the ransom. You comply with sending off tape recorded messages to him and the press, never going off script. Well, almost never. You also keep praying. Yet time passes and you don’t hear anything from your old man. The Major General says your old man doesn’t love you. Even the nicer army members think he doesn’t love you more than his money. You swear it must be some sort of misunderstanding, but every day it dawns on you more and more it’s true. Your old man was never around. He’ll be happy when his gay son is dead and Kurloz and Meulin can carry on the family name.

So you decide that if your flesh and blood family rejects you, you’ll become a member of the Sufferist family. You tell the lanky fellow that, and he goes quiet, but he tells the Major General. There’s a lot of discussion among your new family, but you can’t hear it with the radio in your closet turned up real high. Still, their national anthem is playing, which is a good sign.

Eventually, all of the motherfuckers come to take you out of the closet. By this point, you aren’t handcuffed or blindfolded. You don’t think you’ve ever seen all of the cell in one room. On the count of three, they all take off their masks. You gasp. These are the most beautiful people in the world. They say you are one of the family now. You are beautiful too. You cry, but this time, it’s tears of joy.

Your first action is to rob a bank.


	12. Art Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains cartoon image and discussion of fecal matter, mention of Nepeta's death

Your sister Rose has up and alchemated all the motherfucking art supplies you could ever want, for this your first session of art therapy. Humans have long used a wider variety of colors than trolls so you’re a little overwhelmed. She says you have plenty of time. Your task is to draw a picture of what you want to be and a picture of who you are.

The first picture is a delight. The smell of markers on clean paper is heady. You furiously scribble a huge figure on the page, barely having room for horns and wings but you still fit them in. Just the sensation of drawing yourself as these peak unit is exciting.

Your second picture isn’t as happy a task. You ponder it for a minute, then draw a simple dismal drawing. There’s that piece of shit clown smiling at you with his dumb face. You finish that picture quick.

You signal to Rose that you’ve finished and she stops her knitting and comes over to your table to look. She spends a long time looking without saying anything and it makes you feel a bit itchy. Finally, she speaks. She points at the first picture.

”Very impressive. Big muscles and horns and…a codpiece? You want to be strong?” she asks.

”Well, yeah, ain’t every motherfucker wanna be that way?” you ask.

”I am content with my own inner strength. Are you ashamed of your body?”

You laugh mirthlessly. “What motherfucking body? I’m still a twig.”

”Would you feel better if you looked like this?”

You scratch your neck. “I don’t know if I would motherfucking feel better, but it would fit what I’m supposed to be. A purpleblood ain’t supposed to be as small as me, but I guess I wasn’t raised right.”

”Is this what your elite looked like?”

”Yeah, that’s the uniform all the elite Subjuggulators. That’s why I liked myself the god tier pajamas so motherfucker much. Yet it was never more than a fakey-fake uniform. Codpiece was funny to play with.” You mime doing that. “Sproing!”

Rose looks a little uncomfortable. “Um, yes. Does the codpiece represent your feelings about your masculinity?”

Your face pulls a question noodle. “What the motherfuck would a codpiece have to do with that?”

She puts her palm on her forehead. “Oh, troll genders work differently. Never mind that line of thought. What is that pink stuff behind you?”

”That be the wings. Like my fake outfit, but for real.”

”Did the elite Subjuggulators have wings?”

”They wish they did. Legends says the first Grand Highblood had wings, but by the time I hatched along, ain’t nobody have wings.”

”I’ve been noticing your use of color. You made your hair blue, for one.”

”I thought it would be prettier than just ol’ black.”

”It is pretty, and it reminds me of a certain STRONG troll.”

”You think I be thinking of Equius?”

”Possibly. Do you admire him?”

You feel your face go purple. “I guess a little. He does have all the muscles and height and he’s scary but motherfuckers ain’t hating him, not even Aradia.”

”Would you like to be like that?”

”Boy would I motherfucking ever!”

”You want to be a figure of fear, but you also want people to love you?”

”Yeah, I guess only Equius could ever pull that off.”

Rose smiles wickedly. “I think I can pull it off too.”

You laugh. “You certainly can bring the spooky sometimes, sis.”

She points at the club in the figure’s hand. “Another color choice: you made the club Nepeta’s blood.”

Blood drains from your face. “Oh shit, motherfuck, I did. Please don’t think I want to kill her again. I ain’t ever made at her.”

”I wasn’t saying you did. Just pointing out that connection.”

”My bloodpusher wishes you hadn’t, sis.”

”Let’s move on to your drawing of who you think you are.” She squints at the distasteful drawing. “So, you are a pile of dirt?”

”That be a pile of shit. I be a motherfucking huge stinky pile of shit.”

”I see.”

”Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong and I’m actually the finest motherfucker in paradox space or are you gonna say ‘yup you get it right you big ol’ pile of shit’?”

”There’s no ‘right or wrong’ in art therapy. If this is what you think you are, this is what you think you are. Why do you think you're a pile of shit?"

"You even need to motherfucking ask? I murdered and abused and betrayed all my motherfucking friends!"

"But you were under mind control."

"Mind control only accounts for some of it. I had a mind that wanted to be controlled. I craved it. I ain't as simple it all be down to Lil Cal."

"I know, it's complicated. I will say that fecal material can help plants grow.”

”I ain’t never know that, cause Alternia never did much with growing vegetation. Though even if they did, I probably would have skipped those schoolfeeding modules.”

”Never too late to learn. Talk to Jade about the power of shit.”

”I’ll get schoolfed up the bone bulge on that.

”So, how do you feel about this exercise?”

”I feel like the gap between what I wanna be and what I am is so motherfucking huge I can’t get myself seeing over it.”

”You just need to make some adjustments and the gap that seems insurmountable will slowly close. We’ll see how you feel in a few months.”

”Can I just draw whatever I want now?”

”Certainly.”

”Even if a motherfucker wants to draw something of the pornographic nature?”

”Ummm…”

But you are already on your next creative exercise.


	13. Fervent Prayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: contains ICP lyrics, neglectful childhood

You are on the beach in front of your hive and you have been there for some time. You don’t know how long. Watches aren’t your thing. You do know that it is nearing time for the sun to rise and deal its death. You are armed against sea dwellers, but there’s nothing you can do to strife the sun. You could go inside. However, your hive lacks many supplies, including sopor slime. The Old Goat was supposed to come tonight with a shipment for his ward. He didn’t come last night, but that just meant he was sure to come this night.

You hate math, but you must do some calculation. Judging by the sky and the sea and the frantic wildlife, there’s thirty minutes left in this bitch of a night until it abandons you for day. Night is a precious commodity in the light season, even more so than sopor slime or a guardian’s love.

If the sopor slime doesn’t come tonight, you’ll spend a long day lying on the floor with your think pan aching and your body sweating and you won’t even have any grub to comfort you, not that you can keep anything down when you’re dry. Yet that might not be the worst of it.

If your guardian doesn’t come tonight, he might never come again. Maybe that time a fortnight ago was the last time. Maybe he finally stopped loving you, realizing fully that you ain’t worthy of love. Or even if he does love you, he’s dead and in the Dark Carnival’s stables, waiting for you to join him. Or maybe he’s both dead and doesn’t love you and you’ll be rejected when you die.

You ain’t ready to be culled for being an orphan. You ain’t ready to starve to death. In your bloodpusher, you don’t feel it’s time. Yet do the Mirthful Messiahs feel the same way?

If you pray, maybe you can change all this. Maybe the Mirthful Messiahs will think you’re useful, even if nobody else seems to think that.

You take a deep breath of salt air, press your paws together, and start slamming a most sacred prayer.

WeLl HeLlO bOyS aNd GiRlS cOmE oN iN sEe ThE sHoW. iTs ThE mIsTiCaL, mAgIcAl, GrEaT dArK cArNiVaL. dOn'T bOtHeR lOoKiN fOr PaRkInG, gEt RiD oF iT, iT aIn'T lIkE yOu EvEr CoMiNg BaCk YoU fUcKiNg IdIoT.

You continue reciting the prayer, not hesitating for a second since you know it so well. Your vocal cords seem to move on their own. Your sound carries over the sound of the sea. Finally, you finish the prayer.

WhEn ItS yOuR tImE, dEaTh Is NeAr, StEp RiGhT uP oN oVeR hErE. gAmEs, PrIzEs, ShOwS aNd RiDeS, iTs ThAt CaRnIvAl PaRiDiSe.

Nothing happens. Your bloodpusher falls for a moment but then your soul tells you you must continue reciting the prayer. Keep doing it as many times as possible. Maybe even four hundred twenty times.

WeLl HeLlO bOyS aNd GiRlS cOmE oN iN sEe ThE sHoW. iTs ThE mIsTiCaL, mAgIcAl, GrEaT dArK cArNiVaL. dOn'T bOtHeR lOoKiN fOr PaRkInG, gEt RiD oF iT, iT aIn'T lIkE yOu EvEr CoMiNg BaCk YoU fUcKiNg IdIoT.

You don’t find reciting the prayer as easy as it was last time. You try over a few lines. It even feels a little embarrassing. If a sea dweller came along, would they mock you before killing you? Yet you must continue praying.

WhEn ItS yOuR tImE, dEaTh Is NeAr, StEp RiGhT uP oN oVeR hErE. gAmEs, PrIzEs, ShOwS aNd RiDeS, iTs ThAt CaRnIvAl PaRiDiSe.

You are out of breath but you only have a few seconds to pause before you go right back to praying. You must not remain silent.

WeLl HeLlO bOyS aNd GiRlS cOmE oN iN sEe ThE sHoW. iTs ThE mIsTiCaL, mAgIcAl, GrEaT dArK cArNiVaL. dOn'T bOtHeR lOoKiN fOr PaRkInG, gEt RiD oF iT, iT aIn'T lIkE yOu EvEr CoMiNg BaCk YoU fUcKiNg IdIoT.

This time around, you think of the odd reference in the prayer to Alaska and Spain. Will you ever be initiated into the mystery and find out what that means? Or is it better it remains a mystery?

WhEn ItS yOuR tImE, dEaTh Is NeAr, StEp RiGhT uP oN oVeR hErE. gAmEs, PrIzEs, ShOwS aNd RiDeS, iTs ThAt CaRnIvAl PaRiDiSe.

Now it’s your fourth time and you are tired but what is four compared to four hundred twenty? Adult subjuggulators would laugh at your lack of stamina, and not in a good way. You have to continue.

WeLl HeLlO bOyS aNd GiRlS cOmE oN iN sEe ThE sHoW. iTs ThE mIsTiCaL, mAgIcAl, GrEaT dArK cArNiVaL. dOn'T bOtHeR lOoKiN fOr PaRkInG, gEt RiD oF iT, iT aIn'T lIkE yOu EvEr CoMiNg BaCk YoU fUcKiNg IdIoT.

The words don’t even make sense any more, not that they ever made that much sense. It’s just sounds coming out of your protein chute. You don’t care what Alaska and Spain is. That never matter. What matters is making words for your messiahs. They are the only thing that matters. Fuck any infidel who might laugh at a kid like you.

WhEn ItS yOuR tImE, dEaTh Is NeAr, StEp RiGhT uP oN oVeR hErE. gAmEs, PrIzEs, ShOwS aNd RiDeS, iTs ThAt CaRnIvAl PaRiDiSe.

All this talk about Faygo and that’s another thing you lack. You need to drink something but even you know you can’t drink sea water. Your throat is parched. You can’t speak up like you did the first time you recited the prayer. Yet recite you must.

WeLl HeLlO bOyS aNd GiRlS cOmE oN iN sEe ThE sHoW. iTs ThE mIsTiCaL, mAgIcAl, GrEaT dArK cArNiVaL. dOn'T bOtHeR lOoKiN fOr PaRkInG, gEt RiD oF iT, iT aIn'T lIkE yOu EvEr CoMiNg BaCk YoU fUcKiNg IdIoT.

You feel like you’re already dying and going to the Dark Carnival. Yet you feel a sort of peace. Whatever happens, happens. You must continue your fervent prayer.

WhEn ItS yOuR tImE, dEaTh Is NeAr, StEp RiGhT uP oN oVeR hErE. gAmEs, PrIzEs, ShOwS aNd RiDeS, iTs ThAt CaRnIvAl PaRiDiSe.

Now, this time, your prayer is mumbled. You think you might be forgetting some words and adding others. Your think pan is muddled.

hElLo GiRlS aNd BoYs CoMe AnD sEe ThE sHoW, iT's ThE mIsTiCaL mAgIcAl DaRk CaRnIvAl, ThErE's No PaRkInG, gEt RiD oF iT, bEcAuSe YoU'rE aN iDiOt.

Was it Spain to Alaska or Alaska to Spain? You don’t know, but you have to keep praying. You don’t think you’ve even reached ten recitations.

wHeN iT's YoUr TiMe, DeAtH iS nEaR, gAmEs, MiRaClEs, PrIzEs ArE hErE, iT's ThE dArK cArNiVaL.

If only you had the energy for one last time. Just summon up all that energy inside you to pray to the Mirthful Messiahs. Don’t think so hard about the words, just say them and you’ll be all fucking fine and dandy.

WeLl HeLlO bOyS aNd GiRlS cOmE oN iN sEe ThE sHoW. iTs ThE mIsTiCaL, mAgIcAl, GrEaT dArK cArNiVaL. dOn'T bOtHeR lOoKiN fOr PaRkInG, gEt RiD oF iT, iT aIn'T lIkE yOu EvEr CoMiNg BaCk YoU fUcKiNg IdIoT.

As you recite that, you see a glint of familiar white. You know what that is! However, you know if you stop, you’ll jinx it. You continue your recitation.

ThE cArNiVaL eMeRgEs OnLy WhEn YoU bOuT tO dIe, AnD rIgHt NoW mOtHeR fUcKeR yOu ArE dEaD iN tHe SkY.

The seagoat bursts out of the ocean with a package the size of his head in his mouth. It’s your supplies he’s salvaged for his beloved ward! Your bloodpusher is soaring and you have the energy to continue and continue you must! The sound must not stop before its proper time!

I sWiNgS mY sWoRd DoWn AnD sPlIt YoU iN tWo BeFoRe YoU eVeN fAlL i BiTcH sMaCk BoTh Of YoU. wElCoMe To OuR cArNiVaL 50 tHoUsAnD jUgGaLoS, fReEkS aNd WiErDoS aNd KiLlAs At OuR sHoWs. I'm JuSt GlAd We DoWn WiT eM' hAtE tO bE yAlL. aNd HaVe A jUgGaLo ShAtTeR mY sKuLl FoR tHe CaRnIvAl.

The seagoat drops the package on the beach, almost shattering your own skull and your concentration, but you continue reciting. He puts his furry head down on the sand and you go to hug it. You speak the words into his fur.

WeLcOmE tO mY eXiBiT i Be ThE sHaGgS, sIt BaCk AnD eNjOy, ReLaX yO nIpPlEs AnD nUt BaGs.

You can hear the Old Goat breathing and the pulse of his you-sized heart. He used to sing many lullabies when you were young and this is your lullaby to him. You know he must be tired after his long trip.

I gOt LoVe FoR dEaD pEoPlE, aNd I hOpE tO dIe, I gOt NeDeN wAiTiN oN mE uP iN sHaNgRi La. BuT iF yOu ReAlLy WaNt To HeAr ThE fUcKiNg DeViLs ExIbIt, ThE sHiT iS cAlLeD hElLs PiT, rUn OuT aNd GeT iT.

Your words are slower than on previous iterations. You draw this moment out. Everything just slows down. The sunrise is far off. Everything is just this moment. Yet at one point, the prayer has to end. It is the final prayer of the night.

WhEn ItS yOuR tImE, dEaTh Is NeAr, StEp RiGhT uP oN oVeR hErE. gAmEs, PrIzEs, ShOwS aNd RiDeS, iTs ThAt CaRnIvAl PaRiDiSe.

Unfortunately, that also is the moment the Old Goat leaves. He lifts his enormous furry head, shakes it off, and honks. You know he’s telling you to go inside. You make a fist pump. He turns around and swims away just as fast as he came.

It’s not easy pulling the package inside, but you have practice doing it. For now, you catch your breath and listen to the sound of the sea. It’s the sound of the Mirthful Messiahs answering your prayer and it’s as melodious as the Vast Honk that’s sure to come.


	14. Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated E
> 
> Gamzee/Unspecified troll partner (chose whoever you want) 
> 
> All characters are adults. Hermaphroditic trolls.

You and your favorite motherfucker love sex. On Earth-C, it’s not just animalistic grinding to help the Empire get its soldiers on. You are doing it all for yourself. Completely selfish but your selves vanish. Sometimes it’s quick, but you like it slow. Spark up a few candles, eat a light meal, and help each other out of all that motherfucking restrictive clothing. Naked before each other like the night you were hatched in a lab, free of your zodiac signs. You start by kissing each other on the lips, softly at first but soon getting really sloppy with it. Rub each other’s thorax. Soon, your bone bulges come up to say “what’s up, motherfucker?”, but you ignore that for all the other miracle spots on the body. You’ve got plenty of time. Eventually, the bone bulge can’t be denied no longer. You sink your bone bulges in each other’s nooks, giving and getting in a way humans never can. You join together. Fitting together like two pieces in a puzzle. The pressure builds up but you see how long you can go without letting it explode. Yet at some point, it’s time for that motherfucking miracle to all happen. Ain’t no need for buckets from impatient drones. You fill each other up with that goodness. Later, you might go to a bucket or a toilet but for now, you lie around with round bellies. Laughing about what you motherfuckers did like it’s a conspiracy but you have no evil plans anymore. Just fun.

You don’t just fuck this favorite motherfucker. You’ve fucked other trolls, humans, and even a carapace once. Sometimes you’ve fucked more than one motherfucker at a time. But your favorite be your favorite and you wouldn’t want it anyway else.


	15. Voluntary Social Isolation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: there are multiple timelines.
> 
> Warning: mentioned person and animal death

After you get your ass out of the fridge, you decide you want nothing to do with no motherfuckers anymore. Everyone is dead to you. You were dead to them first. Your think pan might get the reasons why they ignored you, all this nonsense about Void powers, but your blood pusher never will and that organ is what really motherfucking rules you. Your think pan ain’t never been good anyway. So after a curt thanks and an apology, you set out to never talk to a motherfucker again, not even a honk.

Karkat yells that you’re being ungrateful, but you launch a few insults at him and his matesprit and afterward he seems pleased he’ll never have to deal with you again. Calliope is harder to deal with and you almost break when she cries but you hold firm for once in your life. Everyone else don’t seem to care.

You consult with the map and pick a mountain foothold in the middle of the desert to live in. You would have preferred to live near the ocean, but beaches are too popular. Well, you ain’t going back to your wigglerhood. Building drones create a cabin for you and you have an alchematier in the cellar. You have no other technological doohickeys. No WiFi out in this wilderness. You are completely alone.

You’ve been alone before, but those times you were always waiting for someone. Waiting for the Old Goat, for your trollroll friends, for your Messiahs. This time, you wait for no motherfucker at all.

Some motherfuckers, worshipers as deluded as you used to be, try and wait for you. You scare them off your property, which is easy after you gain your adult highblood size. You might have killed one and you should feel guilty but you don’t.

You are completely alone with your thoughts. Back on Alternia, you might save up your musings to tell a friend but you ain’t got no friends. For a time, you write them in a journal, but eventually you stop bothering to alchemize journals and pencils. Your thoughts come and go like flies. Nobody cares about a fly after it dies.

Eventually, you simply exist. Nobody judging your actions and thoughts no more. You go about your day, making shit out of the meager desert material, using the alchematier less and less. You hunt for meat. That is your only thrill, your only accomplishment. Chasing down animals and biting out their throats. You aren’t a sapient creature anymore. You are like what you chase.

Then, you fade away…


	16. Sunbathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I've had motivation problems. 
> 
> Warning: wear sunscreen, kids.

The Sun on Alternia culled. Your lusus may have not told you much but he told you that. You knew Terezi had a really bad run in with it. Your tradition tells gory stories of heretics sentenced to lie out in the sun until they’re burnt to a crisp. So, the Sun makes you sweat in more ways than one. It is an evil god. 

Yet the Sun on Earth-C ain’t like that evil god on Alternia. Sure, it will burn, but it takes its sweet time. Even knowing this science, you couldn’t quite believe it and got about nocturnally. Eventually, you got your bravery and watched the Sun rise. All the warmest colors filled the horizon. It was so motherfucking beautiful you decided to stay up. Now you love the Sun. 

You like to lie outside, wearing just shorts (or if you feel particularly naughty, nothing at all). The Sun beams down on every cell of your being, filling it with energy. Your husk is warmed and toasted. You wear eye-protection but you can still feel the heat on your skin eye curtains. Your blood pusher pumps excitedly. Sweat pours out like you’re your kismesis when you tell him you hate him. Soon, you want to slam a Faygo, but you resist. There’s a pleasant light-headedness that comes when you ain’t got enough liquid in your body. You admire the perfect blue in the sky, shades lighter than any troll blood. Sometimes, that sleepiness overtakes you. 

Then, it all ends when your moirail comes by and yells at you to put on some threads and get inside. Maybe one day, he’ll know the wonder of the sun. For now, you’re glad he’s looking out for you. 


End file.
